this time
by alliemart
Summary: He was only trying to protect himself; and yes, maybe he had wanted to hurt her too, but not this much. He never wanted to break her. Post 47 Seconds.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Because I didn't feel like paying attention in class, and now I really don't want to study... Yay procrastination!_

_Disclaimer: I think this goes without saying, but I only wish I owned _Castle_._

* * *

_Ran into you yesterday_  
_Memories rushed through my brain_  
_it started to hit me_  
_now you're not with me_  
_I realized I made a mistake_  
_I thought I needed some space_  
_But I just let love go to waste_  
_It's so crystal clear now_  
_that I need your here now_  
_I gotta get you back today_

_-_John Legend, _This Time_

* * *

One foot in front of the other. Breathe in, breathe out. _The fresh air is good for you_, she has to remind herself. She hasn't had to force herself to do the simple things, like breath or walk, in a long time. But she can't let herself think about that; if she does, she might not make it home before she breaks.

She's so focused on her mission -get home quickly and in one piece- that she doesn't notice the car pulling up next to her until it's too late.

"Beckett."

_Shit_. She closes her eyes, trying not to hyperventilate. She can't deal with this right now. She keeps walking, praying that this is just her mind playing a cruel trick. She hears the car stop and a door open. _No, no, no_.

"Kate."

Her eyes jerk open when she feels his hand grasp her wrist. "What the hell do you want, Castle?"

* * *

"It's freezing out here. Let me give you a ride home."

"No."

"It's midnight and you've got at least another half hour's walk. Please."

He can practically hear the debate going on in her head, although he's not quite sure why it's such a big deal- for her, at least. He can see her starting to wear herself down; he simply walks back to his car, opens the door, and waits for her to give in.

She settles herself into the car, as far away from him as is possible. He sighs. He can tell she hasn't been sleeping; probably not eating either, if the sharper, more hallowed lines of her cheekbones are any indication. The realization that he still feels the innate need to take care of her causes his chest to twist painfully.

Her eyes harden as she catches him staring. "What are you even doing out in this part of town, Castle?"

There's steel in her voice; it almost masks the hint of vulnerability, almost. That stings, a lot, more than he thought it would.

* * *

"Some stupid publicity event," he answers curtly. She wonders, internally, where the limo and the blonde are. As if he can still read some of her thoughts, he responds quietly to her unanswered question. "Too flashy, especially for a drive home."

He sounds weary, worn down, and so unlike the playboy she's come to expect. It almost makes her feel bad.

When the car stops, presumably in front of her apartment, she reaches for the handle, eager to get back to her bubble of independence and solitude, safety. His voice stops her.

"Can I take you to dinner? I know a place, a few blocks over and, if I haven't eaten tonight, I think it's safe to assume you haven't either."

Her heart clenches; oh how well he still knows her. She hasn't eaten anything since lunch, which consisted of the granola bar she had grabbed for breakfast. Even though she knows she has absolutely no food in her apartment, she begins to shake her head- but, apparently, judging by it's sudden grumbling, her stomach has other ideas.

* * *

He is fully aware of her reluctance to accept his offer, but he'll take what he can get. It's been three months since his last case; he thought he had been getting over her, but seeing her tonight brings back all his suppressed feelings. His mother was right, love isn't a switch that can be turned off. Once they're seated in the restaurant, he takes a moment to really look at her; his heart sinks at the sight.

Her hair is pulled tightly into a bun and her dark, sharp clothes reflect the dark emptiness of her eyes; she looks haunted. The waiter comes to take their order, and when he looks back at her, her eyes have hardened even more, if possible. Her face is a mask of calm as she asks him what he's doing.

What _is_ he doing? He isn't really sure, so he decides to go with an answer he hopes is safe.

* * *

"Having dinner with a friend."

* * *

She inhales sharply, looking livid. Okay, so not the best response, but at least she's showing some emotion other than cold indifference.

"Is that what this is, dinner with a friend? Because it looks a lot like pity from this side of the table."

What, pity? No. But sadly, he can't even wonder how she could think that, because he knows. Instead, he asks, "What reason would I possibly have to pity you?"

* * *

She scoffs at him, taken aback. "Off the top of my head? I can think of plenty. Because my mother was murdered and I was almost killed because I couldn't get over it? Or, maybe, because no amount of therapy will ever be able to fix what's broken inside me? Or, is it because you realized that I heard you that day in the cemetery, and you don't know how to tell me you didn't really mean it, that you had only said it because I was dying? Well, let me tell you, I got the message. Loud and clear."

* * *

He looks at her, shocked. "Is that really what you think?"

"You know, I don't really know what to think."

He sighs, "Why did you lie, Kate?"

* * *

She closes her eyes, might as well be honest. What does she have left to lose?

* * *

"I was hoping you would say it again. So I would know for sure you had meant it, that it hadn't been a dream or a memory I had created so I could have something to latch on to; so I could say it back."

* * *

"You said 'always' and I believed you. I thought you understood what I meant that day on the swings, that I wanted and needed to be better for you; but here I am now, alone, and even more broken."

* * *

His heart is beating frantically at her words. He can't draw even a shallow breath.

* * *

Tears well in her eyes as she takes in his blank expression. Oh god, what has she done? She needs an escape, so she does what she does best- she runs.

* * *

The scraping of the chair brings him back to reality. He jumps up and throws a wad of cash on the table.

* * *

This time, he goes after her.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: For everyone that asked for a second chapter. Now I understand how so many would be one shots get turned into multi-chapter stories... It's hard to resist you guys! _

* * *

_Last time I wasn't sure  
This time I will give you more  
I'm more mature  
I'll show you  
Last time I didn't know  
I messed up and let you go  
I need you  
Don't say no_

_-_John Legend, _This Time_

* * *

He steps onto the sidewalk in time to see her duck into a crevice between two buildings. He follows her, pushing past the tightening in his chest.

He was only trying to protect himself; and yes, maybe he had wanted to hurt her too, but not this much. He never wanted to break her.

Looking back, he understands. There's a sense of clarity there that he had somehow missed before. He sees the subtle touches, the smiles, the lingering glances. He realizes now all the times she had been trying to say more than he had heard. He understands now that she had been giving him all she could at the time.

He feels like a jackass.

* * *

She's leaning against the wall with her head tilted back, shaking with the effort of trying to hold it all in, trying to remain strong.

He grabs her wrist, pulling her into a rough embrace. His arms wrap around her so tightly she can't breathe- she thinks, maybe for the first time, that that's not always such a bad thing.

She knows she hurt him with her silence, but dammit, she had good reasons. She just wanted to be better; she just wanted to be the kind of woman that could deserve him. As much as she's tried to ignore it these past few months, she still wants that.

Still wants him. Wants them.

And that hurts almost as much as the rest of it.

* * *

Everything in him aches for her, for the both of them. For what they may have lost- all because they were speaking two different languages.

He loves openly, with books and coffee and words and persistence. She doesn't work like that; he _finally_ sees that. She loves with looks and actions and subtext and second chances.

It kills him to think it took all of this for him to realize that just because her love is quiet doesn't mean it's any less real than his.

Apparently he has trust issues too. She may be the one with the wall, built to protect her heart from everyone and everything, but she was letting him in; he knows how difficult, how painful that had to have been for her. Even if she had lied, she had only asked him to do one thing, to wait for her to build him a door, and he hadn't trusted her enough to do even that.

* * *

In this case, knowing why doesn't help. In fact, it makes the whole situation worse. She caused this, she did this to them. And now she doesn't know how to fix it.

She can't help but question whether she's broken them for good- what if the damage she's done is irreparable? She doesn't understand how he could possibly still love her after all this. She wouldn't love herself; she's not sure she can even trust herself at this point. But she will always love him, will always trust him. _Always_.

Her resistance falters as their word crosses her mind. The tears she had been fighting so hard to contain begin to drip from her eyes as she wonders: can it still be _their _word after everything that's happened?

* * *

He wants to apologize, but he can't force the words past his throat. They are both to blame here, but neither one of them knows what to do to fix it.

He can't find the words that would even begin to make this better. He doesn't know what to say, so he settles for nothing at all. He hugs her with all his strength and prays that she understands his silence.

* * *

When she was seventeen, she'd walked in on her boyfriend with his pants down and his hand up a cheerleader's skirt; as she was crying her eyes out on her parents' bed, waiting for her mom to get home, she'd picked up _A Rose for Everafter_ from the bedside table and immediately fallen in love.

Ever since then, his words have been her guiding light. Derrick Storm stood by her through her mother's murder and her father's alcoholism; the retired PI had gotten her through the Academy and had even shaped part of her philosophy as a cop. Nikki Heat had changed everything; Nikki had shown her that love was real and that it was worth it and had given her hope that maybe, someday, she would be able to love and be loved as well.

His words have always been there for her, without fail- except now. When she needs them the most, he's not saying a goddamn thing.

He's got his arms wrapped around her like a lifeline, but he isn't saying a damn thing.

In the end, it's his silence that breaks her- ironic, since it was her silence that had broken them in the first place.

* * *

He knows the moment she finally lets go; he can hear her breathing become more ragged as she crumples against him. His heart clenches as she begins to murmur a constant string of desperate apologies into his chest.

His eyes fill with tears as he whispers condolences and apologies of his own into her hair.

When she's cried herself dry, he pulls back, extricating his hands from her hair to cradle her face. His thumbs move to wipe the tears from her cheeks with a new, yet familiar sense of reverence. He leans in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Say it back, Kate. This time, you say it first."

* * *

"I love you, Rick."

Her heart is pounding; she's absolutely terrified. Risking it all with four words. Who knew one little sentence could be so scary?

* * *

His chest cracks open at her words, a conglomeration of feelings spilling out, all vying for control- relief, joy, guilt, but most of all, love.

"I love you too. Still do. God, I never stopped, I couldn't."

* * *

With that, he pulls her back into his arms. This time, neither of them are letting go. This time, they are done running.

This time is forever.


End file.
